


A God amid Mortals

by bellygunnr



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Fashion Modeling, M/M, Professional Turfing, Rivalry, Showing Off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Emperor is hired to do all sorts of modeling for the latest fashion and weaponry.But so is Rider.And they hate each other.Right?





	A God amid Mortals

The hottest new fashion was the work of one Toni Kensa, a legendary designer who specialized in comfortable, monochromatic sportswear. While the black-white look was not Emperor's favorite color palette, it was one he would have to endure, for he would be the new face of the Kensa fashion magazine. That was the caveat to being both rich and famous. You were always wasting your time doing things like this.

Emperor examines himself one more time in the mirror, adjusting the buttons of his Ink Wash shirt until he was satisfied. His tentacles were arranged in the same slick fashion, augmented by a dusting of silver and gold glitter, further accented by the Eminence Cuff. A voice calls out from the studio room, urging him to come outside, it was nearly time--!

He sighs, brows furrowing together.  _Who do they think they are, distracting the King like this?_

  
The studio is huge even when it's crammed full of various cameras and photographers. An arrangement of backdrops are organized in the back, ready to be swapped in and out as they pleased. On the stage itself lies two weapons: the Kensa Dynamo and the Kensa Splat Dualies.

Emperor grimaced. Two weapons meant one thing: he wasn't alone.

"Is this a paired shooting? Who is it?" Emperor snapped, gesturing at the massive roller.

"It's Rider," a voice said beside him. Low and growly.

Not an assistant.

"What-- are you doing here?" Emperor demanded, turning sharply on his heel. "Commoners don't belong here..."

"Yeah, yeah, get over yourself. It's all part of the contracts at the end of the day."

Rider had foregone his jacket, the studio cladding him in the Front-Zip Vest, Goggles, and Arrow Pull-ons. The vest exposed the finer parts of Rider's built physique while leaving just enough to the imagination. Emperor snorted, teeth gritting together.

What a joke.

The lights dim in the studio. A hand claps and the coordinator herself steps out onto the stage, beckoning both Rider and Emperor onto the stage.

"Don't be shy, now. Some of these photos are going front page so I don't want to see any slacking!"

Silently, the two battlers gather up their weapons, arranging themselves in unfortunately close poses, faces pulled into iconic grins and growls. Rider has the Dynamo slung over his shoulder one-handed, muscles bulging-- yet even Emperor could tell that the weight was hardly a strain. It was just for show.

Eye candy.

"Good job, great job, Rider. Emperor, I want more of that burning, molten lava look in your eyes. Gold ink is rare so make it flashy!"

Ah.

The king growled low in his throat and snarled his expression,conjuring easily the phantoms of past battles and the emotions with it. The Kensa Dualies surely looked deadly in his clawed hands, driven home by a grin full of sharp teeth.

Beside him, Rider was ordered to bring the Dynamo down, and Emperor struggled not to flinch as the massive barrel crashed down inches from his head.

"Watch where you swing that thing!" He sniped sharply.

"I'm following orders," Rider said.

The flashing of the cameras were beginning to get to him.

"Very, very good! Now, Rider, come off the stage so we can do some solo shoots of Emperor..."

+

Relieved, Rider drank deeply of a cup of water, amber eyes glaring over the edge where Emperor still posed and danced like a doll on strings. The Dualies did, indeed, look suitably deadly in the King's hands, if a little small. He bit back a whistle as the coordinator ordered him to perform several dodge rolls.

They would edit the ink in later, of course.

That was one thing Rider didn't understand about weapon catalogs. All of it was fake. The posing was rehearsed and battles were shopped in. Rider wondered if the only real thing was the contempt he held for the events.

He hated disingenuous things. But this paid the bills when Battling didn't. Not to mention that Toni Kensa and other weapons companies were paying him a hefty sum to model this particular shoot. He wouldn't have to worry about rent for half a year.

Emperor was looking thoroughly exhausted by the time the coordinator shooed him off the stage. Smirking, Rider set aside his cup and swept past him.

"Your dodge rolls are the same on and off the field, King-- gratuitously flashy and horribly inefficient."

+

The snide comment left Emperor feeling both stunned and enraged. Flashy? Inefficient? That green bastard-- he'd have words to trade with him! Rider had gotten too cocky in his recent win streak.

Emperor would have to teach both Rider and his rat team a lesson. They were sorely overdue...

He looked back to the stage, tentacles twitching as he caught Rider's gaze burning into him. That smirk was still there, unapologetic and amused.

_He's just a commoner_ , Emperor chided himself. _Rider's nothing compared to me._

_I shouldn't be getting so worked up._

But he was.

And the King hated it.


End file.
